I am choosing to format this as public and not private so I can access it at work.

The book is your ticket to freedom.

Once its in editing, after your editor confirms the magnitude of how big this book will be, how well it’ll do, once you begin shopping it around to agents, you’ll be able to justify quitting your job.

(FINISH)

I would love to see the Lancer get a second life.

Imagine all the clear coat filled in, new shock absorbers installed, new, fresh floor mats, new interior lights installed (that stay on when the car is being driven, not when the doors are opened) with the ability to customize the colors, and a scent diffuser sticking out of the cupholder in the backseat. The backseat, by the way, is perfectly clean.

The trunk is empty.

The car glistens again. The tires sparkle. It looks almost new. It always smells nice. Clients feel like they’re riding in something special when they get in it.

The Lancer will get a second life. And it will see 250,000 miles.

– The world

Those are the words society will speak once I am getting seven hours of sleep a night, healing my body, healing my mind, and am on a manifestation rampage.

Workshops, book deals, patents, a TV show. Rental properties, a second car, a house house. Deltoids like the shoulders on Samus’ suit. A chest that barrels forward. A thin waist. Huge thighs. A beautiful home.

I am changing and my world will change and the lives of everybody around me will watch on in shock and awe at its proportions.

“I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.”

And its still caked in anti-freeze from New York.

Every work week ends on a Friday. And by the end of Friday, everything is okay.

Evelyn at Starbucks seems like a nice girl.

I bet she is.

So maybe I should leave her alone.

Rather than drag her into this cosmic confusion of starting something with her while my heart belongs to somebody else, and I am one-half of that person.

She seems like a nice person. So maybe she should be left alone.

The helicopter lifted me off of the rooftop of JP on January 9th, with clients and problems and resentments jumping up trying to grab onto the rails and pull it back down.

And the helicopter landed onto the rooftop of the Fairfield, Marriot in New York City’s Time Square.

That was supposed to be the happy ending.

Except, this morning it landed back on top of JP. Then Camille hit my car.

It was past 4 PM and I was on the 4th floor on a Friday walking the perimeter. I glanced outside the balcony beside 403.

A sheet of dark grey clouds hung over everything. It rained terribly.

I thought about Boba Fett from that series I read as a kid, and how it often rained on the planet he grew up on. Was it: “Kamino?” Something like that. I remember him leaving the planet a lot on a space ship.

I thought about my Veloster N as a rocket ship. One that can take me from planet to planet, from setting to setting, from one atmosphere to another.

This came up for me the next evening when I turned right from Peacock Gap onto the main street. I simply marveled at the Richmond Bridge in the backdrop of clouds and rain as I careened around that curve in the road to the highway.

4:24 PM 

Wednesday 

November 19th, 2025 

I want you to enjoy it all; every creamy bite of cream cheese, the saltiness from the soy sauce, the soft texture of the raw salmon. 

The sweetness and tang of the fried chicken on top of the brown rice mixed with salad dressing and lemon sauce. 

Enjoy mindfulness in the restaurant. And the mindful focus of the chatter. I like the moment where it produces this wordless sort of meaning. 

You deserve it. I am sitting here on the 3rd floor in the desk in the corner, dead tired, in a darkening weather with no special dinner tonight to look forward to, but a phone call with A instead. 

Enjoy the full belly. The stick shift drive home. Peering in Jack in the Box. Laying down. The meditation followed by movies and TV. 

Enjoy all of it.